JXHQ: Doctor Patient Confidentiality
by thechokesonyou
Summary: (Probably) ONESHOT. Joker x Harley Quinn. More smut, but not in the way you're expecting. Delve deep into the psyches of these two as their lust for one another first begins to grow...


The sound of a crow made Harleen Quinzel jump. "How cliche," She whispered under her breath, slamming her car door behind her as she made her way towards her apartment. The November night was already dreary enough as it was without the calls of crows. They had always been so associated with evil and frightening things, that even though she knew they were perfectly innocent, the screams from their beaks still unsettled her. She shivered slightly and pulled her coat tighter around her shoulders. The apartment complex she lived in wasn't anything special. She lived a couple blocks outside of the Narrows, too close to Crime Alley for her taste, but the complex itself was nice even in the neighbours weren't. Besides, rent was really cheap. She needed cheap. Arkham didn't pay well.

Pay really wasn't her main concern though. She'd started off as an intern there simply because of her passion for the mind. Psychology was a beautiful, exciting thing and most people didn't really _get _it. Not the way she did, anyway. The job had started off fairly boring. They weren't giving her any high profile patients, obviously, and she was mainly shadowing other doctors (a fact that was steadily driving _her _crazy). But then… He showed up.

Well, technically, he'd been there all along, but they'd never met. And then, in their desperation, she was called in for a session. That's when things got… Interesting. Oh, how he'd changed things. Her life had been a complete 180, which was funny because, in reality, nothing she _did _was different, but everything she _thought _was so… _Him. _That worried her slightly at first, and then as the obsession grew, it worried her a lot more. It wasn't as if she was in love with the guy. She just had a slight infatuation. He was fascinating. Charming. Brilliant, absolutely brilliant. Who _wouldn't _be interested in him? Not to mention his looks. At first glance, he was terrifying. His eyes were so dark they were practically black, and the scars that reached up his cheeks looked gruesome, even though Harley now was accustomed to them. He always had that little smile on his lips. The smile that screamed _I'm only here because I _want _to be. _She knew he could leave the asylum anytime he wanted. He just had his ways. But there he was, sitting in his cell, patiently awaiting…

Something.

Harley wanted to know what that something was.

What was he waiting for? Was he just biding his time? Did he have an even bigger agenda? Was this all part of his plan? The thoughts were dizzying. Harley flipped on the light of her apartment as she walked in, throwing her things down and kicking off her heels. It had been such a long day and she was wearing herself out thinking about him so much. He was exhausting, even when he wasn't around. He was the Joker. He was…

Harley sighed, splashing some water on her face from the sink. She stood over the basin, glaring into her own blue eyes. She looked unkempt. Usually she did such a good job of looking perfect and professional, but she just couldn't focus on that anymore. Her mind was elsewhere. She stripped off her work clothes, and changed quickly, crawling under her blankets, but she was unable to sleep. Staring at the ceiling, her thoughts kept floating back to his face.

Wow, he was beautiful. So beautiful, and not just his looks, but everything about him. She was obsessed, she knew. The fact that she was thinking about her patient in such a way was so unethical, but she couldn't make herself stop - and there was no way in hell she was going to have him reassigned. The image of him smirking at her wouldn't fade. She thought of every little detail of his features. His lips were pale and full for a grown man and the scars were just slightly lighter, and almost kind of pretty after looking at them so much. His eyes, though, were her favorite. They were onyx black almost, and everytime he looked at her she felt utterly exposed and vulnerable, like he was peeling back every layer of her and poking around inside. She couldn't help but like it. Next, she started to think about his frame. He was very tall, much taller than her especially, towering over six feet, while she was a measly 5'4. He was lean and appeared skinny under his Arkham jumpsuit, but when he moved, she could see the muscles underneath his skin. He had to be strong, living the kind of life he did.

Harley froze when she realized that she'd unconsciously slipped a hand down into her underwear as she thought about him. Shaking, she took a breath and pulled her hand away, but she couldn't ignore the feelings she'd ignited. In all honesty, she'd had these feeling for a long while. They'd just been buried very deep. Now, they were out and open and flaming hot with need. Her core ached to be touched - but not just by anyone, by him, and she knew that was wrong.

_He kills people, Harley! _She screamed in her mind, but she couldn't hold it back. She didn't care. She didn't, and that was that. She forced her hand back down to pleasure herself, furiously rubbing her most sensitive area. She groaned quietly, tortured by her lust. She _needed _him. Fantasies that she didn't know she had flipped through her mind. _The Joker, behind her, forcing himself deep inside of her as she screamed... The taste of him on her lips... Feeling those scars brush against her inner thighs… _Thinking of him being buried inside of her tight sex made her orgasm fast approach as her fingers moved even faster. God, she was so wet. She'd never felt so good in her life. Her back arched off the bed as the climax reared up and at the last second… Disappeared.

She cried out at the loss of pleasure. Collapsing against the mattress, sweaty and breathless and in need, she broke down into desperate sobs. What was _happening_ to her?

********At the exact same time at Arkham Asylum, ******the Joker was sound asleep in his cot. He usually didn't sleep for more than a few hours a night, and it was surprising in general that he was asleep this early. That being said, no more than five minutes later, the clown woke with a start, frozen in place and covered in a thin sheen of sweat. The lights in the asylum were all shut off, and it was quiet, other than his breathing. That ****_dream. _****Why had he dreamt that? He shook his head wildly like a dog, trying to clear the images of him, throwing himself upon his psychiatrist. ****_He _****didn't have those dreams. ****_He _****wasn't controlled by sex like the average man. He wasn't average. **

But there was something about her…

When he threw the blankets off of him and sat up, he realized with a start that he was hard, stiff against his stomach in his Arkham jumpsuit. His mouth twitched in realization. It was just a normal bodily reaction, he told himself. He wasn't really lusting after someone… The unwelcome image from his dream, the picture of Harley laying on her back on his cot while he forced his erection deep into her over and over again, her screams for more radiating in his ear… His cock twitched against him and he felt warm precum flow out onto his clothes. He groaned, shoving his head into his hands. This was bad. This wasn't normal. Well, not normal for _him, _anyway.

"_You want Daddy's cock, don't you, little girl?" He growled, as he thrusted deep, slamming against her cervix. The young blonde moaned beneath him, bucking her hips up against him, chasing the pleasure. She was so wet and hot, grasping him tightly. He never thought something so frivolous could feel so fucking good._

"_Yes, Daddy!" She cried, tears flowing down her flushed cheeks, her lip wobbling as she cried for him. He growled, slamming into her once, twice, three times and then groaned as he emptied himself deep inside of her._

He leant forward at the image of her crying face, begging for him to have his way with her, calling him _Daddy. _The friction against his abdomen made him shudder violently. He hated the power she had over him. She was making him weak. The Joker was _not _weak. With a growl, he slammed his fist against the wall of his cell, and then collapsed back down on the mattress. One of these days, he would have her and he would make her pay for doing this to him. Yes, she would suffer. He relished in the image of him brutally pounding into her, his knife slicing into her perfect, flawless skin, blood spilling over… He licked his lips subconsciously. He could tell her blood would taste so good. He grabbed his cock through his jumpsuit, angrily jerking on it. His body ached with the need for her - not just to fuck, but in every way. He wanted to possess her, to own her, to make her submit to him in every way.

And he would do it. Soon.


End file.
